Badababoom!
by pepero4president
Summary: Sometimes, all you need is a little qui pro quo to finally get a chance at happiness.


"What do you think, Snuffles?"

Normally, a teenager talking to a dog could appear a little weird; even weirder was the fact that _**a)**_ the above teenager was carrying a wand; and _**b)**_ the big white dog was observing him, yawning widely.

James Sirius Potter had a problem. A _big_ problem. And James Potter didn't like problems. He scratched his nose, while at his side Snuffles, the family dog, was blissfully oblivious to his musings, playing with a ball. James had never been unhappier to be 17, and it was all because of two letters arrived less than 24 hours ago.

 _Freaking_ birthday.

 _Freaking_ Cassie Finnegan'

And, last but not least, freaking stupid, fake, liar son of a Blast-ended skrewt so-called best friend Matt Wood and his lack of sense of timing. Or shame. Or both.

James couldn't say he was an expert in Witch Weekly matters, but he was fairly sure that some things just couldn't be revealed via owl post. At the same time, he wasn't sure at all that he wanted to ask for advice those who actually read that magazine, because in the Potter household - and in Weasley one, for that matter - it was impossible to keep a secret: from a stolen sweet to the atomic bomb formula, everyone always managed to know everything.

In all honesty, James' would have loved a little piece of advice. It wasn't that he didn't want to confide in his family, he just had no intention of letting some of them - i.e. a certain Albus Severus and his partner in crime, Rose Weasley - know of his problem. His mother would understand him and help him in finding a solution, as would his aunt Hermione; his father and his uncle Ron would be certainly embarrassed, but they'd support him; Lily would ask a thousand questions and Hugo would never think of laughing at him; but those two? He could already picture them, rolling on the floor laughing and making jokes.

He was utterly certain, they'd laugh at him until the end of times.

After all, he reasoned as he lazily threw a ball for his dog to catch, he was used to it. That story had been going on for 15 years: ever since those two learned to talk - the irony was that they decided to utter their first word the same day - they had decided to take the mickey out of him.

Optimistically speaking, at least all this absurd story would finally replace the tale of his third year, when he had tripped over Marcus McMillian during the Halloween Feast in the Burrow Christmas Day contest of embarrassing stories. His brother and cousin loved to reenact the scene year after year, always earning tons of applauses. At least that year they'd finally win against his uncles Ron and George, who had a perfect interpretation - a word-by-word replica - of his father's stammering proposal to his mother. They'd better thank him.

Bloody Matt Wood. And bloody Cupid.

Why, James asked himself for the hundredth time that morning, why out of all the living beings populating the Earth, his soon-to-be ex best friend had to choose him as the recipient of his romantic feelings?

To make matters worse, the girl he was madly in love with since their first meeting, Cassie Finnegan, his other best friend, had just sent an owl telling him that she was extremely sorry but couldn't make to his birthday party, because his father had an accident at the office - something about an elevator, a bad joke and an overly-sensitive blast-ended skrewt - and it was universally known that Seamus Finnegan did not let his precious daughter wander alone in the Metro network.

Could he have imagined a more awful birthday? Yes, of course, as there was always a way for things to get worse, as Teddy Lupin, his mentor, liked to say. It could always rain.

As he was formulating the thought, he swore he heard a thunder in the distance.

It was a marvelous party, with amazing decorations, delicious food and spectacular fireworks. Not to brag, but Ginny Potter surely knew how to throw a party, and she had to admit that she had outdone herself for his son's seventeenth birthday party. Thus it was logical that she was a little annoyed, as the above mentioned son hadn't even made the effort to pretend to be grateful for his mother's efforts.

"Hey. Something wrong?" She heard Harry's voice ask her, as the owner was putting his arms around her.

" _Your_ son is an ungrateful brat, that's what's wrong." Ginny answered, turning into his embrace in order to look at her husband's eyes and giving him her famous _Just-Try-To-Contradict-Me-And-You'll-Sleep-On-The-Couch_ glare. "By the way, happy anniversary, honey."

"Happy anniversary to you too, love.", replied Harry, mentally preparing himself to the possibility of a night on the couch and making her special breakfast the next morning. "What has my son done, this time?", he asked his wife, emphasizing the word "my".

"I've worked my arse off to plan the bash every seventeen-years old dreams of, and what did I have in return? Nothing, not even a little 'Thank you, mum'. I've got a life outside of this family, you know! We didn't owe him a party, we could have had a birthday dinner like every member of my family has had before him; but no, I had to organise the party of the year, and look at him! All he does is sitting in a corner, sighing and looking miserable. We might as well call a…"

"Hey, breathe!" His husband interrupted her. "I know, it looks like he's been very impolite, but I can't help but wonder if you noticed that someone's missing tonight…", he continued, winking at her.

"Who's missing?"

"Red hair, blue eyes, an unnatural ability to set fire to anything in her proximity…"

"Oh my, Cassie didn't come, did she? Oh my poor baby! My little Snitch! No wonder he looks so upset…"

"Ah, but he won't be upset for long.", Harry reassured her with a kiss. "I saw Seamus this morning. He asked me to tell James, if he asked, that a Blast-ended Skrewt injured him in the lift. Seems like Cassie has a big surprise in store for James."

Ginny sighed, leaning into her husband. "I hope this surprise doesn't include setting fire to the house. I've just changed the curtains."

"James, can we talk?"

That was it. The moment he dreaded had finally arrived, and James would rather have sent his Firebolt Max to a rendezvous with the Whomping Willow than starting that conversation.

He suddenly had the burning desire to drink a whole bottle of Firewhisky in one sip.

"Listen, I've read your letter.", he snapped.

"What letter?", asked Matt, taken aback by his friend's answer.

"Don't be stupid, you know very well what I'm talking about."

"Well, actually…"

"Don't interrupt! Look, it's flattering, but we don't feel the same way. I'm really sorry, but I clearly don't care about you as much as you care about me; well, you deserve something better, someone who feels the same about you and that someone isn't me."

"Jamie, are you sure you're alright?" Matt asked him, looking at his friend quizzically. "You're talking nonsense!"

"I know what I'm saying.", replied James, looking everywhere but at his friend. "Anyway, I'd love if we could stay friends, you know I like you. I mean, I like being your friend, don't get me wrong!"

"Thanks Jamie, I too usually like being your friend, when you're not acting like a total lunatic like now."

"I assure you, I've got nothing against you, or those like you…", continued James, not listening to his friend's words.

"Against whom? Quidditch Keepers?"

"It's only that… I'm not like you!"

"Like me? It's obvious, you're a Chaser!"

"And anyway, even if I was like you…"

"Wait, I'm lost. What the hell are you talking about?"

"I could never return your feelings, because I'm in love with someone else."

"You have my blessing, mate. Who's the lucky one?", said Wood sighing, deciding that for the time being the best tactic was to go along with James's ramblings.

James's ears became a typically Weasley red. "I… Well… ", he stammered, looking around to make sure nobody was listening. "IlikeCass'.", he uttered.

"Sorry?"

"I like Cassie." James repeated, in a barely audible whisper.

"For Merlin's sake, Jamie, I can't hear you.", said Matt, with a questioning glare. "Raise your voice, please."

If James Potter had known a spell to open a hole - even better, an abyss - that could send him straight to the Earth's core and close up behind him, he wouldn't have hesitated to use it, right at that moment.

Sadly, he had to answer his friend, who appeared to have suddenly suffered a severe hearing loss, for the third time. He might as well yell.

"I like Cassie, ok?" He screamed, making half of the guests turn around. "I'm insanely, foolishly, pathetically in love with Cassie Finnegan, happy now?", he finished his sentence, while everyone around him fell silent.

"Geez, mate, there's no need to shout," Matt replied, struggling to hold back his laughter. "I'm sure _she_ would have heard you anyway." He pointed at something behind the black-haired teen, sniggering.

No.

This wasn't really happening. It had to be just a bad dream.

Everything happened in just three seconds, stretching out into centuries.

James turned around.

Cassie stared at him.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "Damn, I've just changed the curtains!"

The good thing of being a wizard is that whenever there's a fire there's no need to call firefighters.

The downside of it is that if you're in the immediate proximity of said fire and twenty wizards and witches shout "Aguamenti!" at the same time, the probability of ending wetter than a goldfish in a tank is extremely high.

If there was a thing Matt Wood hated, other than losing at Quidditch and losing at Quidditch against Slytherin, that was seeing his two best friends doing their best to avoid each other. Besides, after six years of knowing the two, he had enough experience to know that it was better to stay silent, because fireworks were expected soon, and it was better to stay out of the fire line.

However, there was something nagging him. "Uhm, James?"

"What?" Replied the other, with the voice of a man on death row who's been asked to dance a jig for the amusement of the execution squad.

"I was wondering…" he started, only to be interrupted by a very audible whisper coming from Cassie. "Wanker!"

As expected.

Matt sighed and prepared his ears for what was going to happen.

"Sorry? Did you say something?"

"You heard me, Potter. Wanker."

"Thank you for this poignant commentary on my person, but I don't understand why I deserved it."

"It's simple, you're a WANKER!"

"And you're annoying."

"Moron!"

"Damn, Cassie! What did I do this time?"

Matt Wood would have loved to kick his dumb friend's arse, in order to knock some sense into him. Instead, he shook his head. "Uhm, if I can interrupt you two…", he said, without conviction.

"You can't say this kind of things and get away with it!"

"It's not my fault you're always appearing out of nowhere every time someone mentions you! I didn't think you were there!"

"Oh really? And tell me, you wouldn't have said that if you had known I was there?"

"Yes, I mean no! I mean… Damn Cassie, I only said that because Matt sent me a letter…"

"So you're not in love with me?" asked Cassie, blushing furiously.

"I didn't mean that!" James answered, flushing. "It's just that… Well, you know… I wouldn't have told you like that, if I had known… it'd have been, I don't know… But… You too…?" He concluded his ramblings, looking at the girl.

"Me too." Cassie said, smiling at James.

"Ehm, ehm." Matt interrupted the two. "About the letter, Jamie… What the heck were you talking about?"

James, who was looking at Cassie with a foolish grin on his face, was abruptly awakened from his lovestruck reverie. He reluctantly turned his attention to his friend. "I was talking about _this_." He said to him, showing the letter to his friend. "I got it this morning."

Matt took the letter from James and, ignoring Cassie who was leaning on his shoulder in order to get a look, began to read it, sniggering. "Tell me, Jamie, do you honestly believe I want… wait, what was it again? _'Fly with you to the Eiffel Tower to declare my undying love for you under the moonlight'_?" he asked, shaking with mirth.

"Well, " the black-haired teen replied, embarrassed. "It's your writing…"

"Yes, but it's not my _style_."

"But… But… it's your writing!" repeated James, dismayed.

Matt began howling with laughter. "My little Jamiekins, do you really think that with half of the Hogwarts population at my feet I'd fall for you? I've known you for six years, and your snoring alone is enough to repel me. No offense though, my dense friend." He told his friend, clapping him on the shoulder and wiping away a tear. "If you want my opinion, it's a joke, and a well played one."

"Oh." was all that James managed to say, scratching his head. "Uhm… Who could have done it, then?"

This time was Cassie who answered him. "Uhm, judging from the way they're rolling on the floor laughing, I'd say that the answer to your question is your brother and cousin." She told him, pointing at the pair laughing hysterically in the distance.

Luckily for the two, James wasn't a basilisk, and could not therefore petrify them with his eyes. Nevertheless, looking at him, it was clair that Albus and Rose wouldn't get away with a simple "sorry". Not thinking for a second at what he was going to do, he grabbed Cassie, kissed her, took off his wand and said: "Wait for me there. **Be right back, I'm going to murder them**."

All things considered, James Potter's seventeenth birthday hadn't been _really_ bad.

Of course, glueing together tying Albus and Rose back to back forcing them to dance the polka cost him a two months punishment, and his mother's rant hadn't been a nice thing to hear, even at a ten miles distance.

Besides, Matt just wouldn't miss an opportunity like that to mock him; on the contrary, he had solemnly swore to never let the poor Potter forget the whole ordeal: it was a reasonable price, according to Wood, for sullying his womanizer reputation.

And it didn't help that he had not been able to taste the delicious cake his mother made for him, lost due to a badly aimed _Aguamenti._ Not to talk about the smell of burnt wood and wet dog lingering in the house; and yes, the curtains would never be the same again, but…

Looking at the ceiling that night, James found out that there was a unique, gigantic plus side of that affair, capable of erasing even the profound hatred he was feeling for his kin; and that was Cassie Finnegan's face in his hands as he was kissing her. Just to repeat that glorious moment, James knew that he'd gladly have replayed that disastrous day over and over again.


End file.
